A Spider's Memory
by DarkChocolatSecret
Summary: Hannah and Claude's young son - Alois, has gone missing. Not only that, but Sebastian and Madame Red's son has also gone astray. Are these incidents connected? And how do poor William and Grell fit into all of this mess? Will these fragile relationships survive the trauma?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Good evening readers. Kuroshitsuji is a long time flame of mine, so I've been mulling over this story for a while. I've been wanting to get back into writing so this seemed like the perfect time to do so. I hope you'll enjoy this tale.**

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**Claude's POV**

It was a dark and stormy morning. Illuminated by the gorgeous summer light, Claude Faustus traversed their beautiful manor home: the Mellerstain House in the lavish border between Scotland and England **(AN: Britain)** which divided them. Many gardens and beautiful animals slipped between the quiet country walls. Truly, a paradise on this fair earth. Yet, this morning, paradise was far away from Claude's mindset.

His head was pounding and he had removed his glasses. Perhaps he would find distraction among the rooms of his grand house, but all he could focus on was the stench of what could possibly be described as, revoltingly, fecal matter. Before he could relax, he knew he needed to clean. To purify his home. To fix what was so very wrong.

He cleaned aggressively, baptising the home in liquid, shining bliss. Until he had but one sole task remaining. His tour de force. The removal of the trash that had piled up as a decadent monolith to filth.

Traipsing out into the garden with large, noisy, rustling plastic bags slung across his strong, broad shoulders, all he could focus on was the task at hand. This final task, this task that would change everything.

_Comunque_, Claude chucked the bags rather lazily down onto the cold, unforgiving earth. Slapping his hands together and commending himself on a job well done, he began to feel ever so slightly satisfied. With an evil smirk, he went to return to the base of homely activities, his now freshened Mellerstain House.

As the rubbish cart arrived to take away the despicable bags, Hannah returned home. Hannah, his _bella donna_. Ah, yes. Her scent was undeniably hers. Sweet, like summer bluebells - like orchards of apples blooming in the deepest autumnal nights. He felt much more relaxed now with his home and wife and glasses back atop the bridge of his nose.

"I'm home, Claude!" Hannah sang in that brilliant, soft-swollen voice of hers.

"How was work, my sweet _amata_?" Claude wondered in bliss.

"Ah, quite alright, my dear Claude. I feel much better now that I am home with you," she sighed and propped her lovely, titillating feet up on the footrest.

Claude ascended, much like the lark, and descended onto one solemn knee. Lovingly, he caressed her bare, tired feet - ebbing out all the pains and sorrows it could hold. Wiggling her toes, he said, "Nice enough?"

Hannah cooed and tilted her head back into a deep moan.

"Enough for now," she said. "Can you get us some wine, dear?"

Claude said nothing but simply smiled expansively before sweeping out of the room in his old butler fashion. He struck a grandiose pose at the top of the stairs and slid down the banister into the wine cellar. Wasting no time at all, he selected the perfect bottle of vintage _vino_ for their night.

When he returned, Hannah already had the glasses and candles prepared.

"Ah you are almost as _dolce _as this wine." Claude remarked as he elegantly popped his glasses from his face.

"Oh don't be such a flirt, Claude," Hannah purred, her brows elevating. "If you _are _being a flirt, you know I don't speak any Spanish."

"Italian, my dear. I am from the sweet sovereign plains of Taranto in southern _Italia_. And _dolce _means sweet, if such things can ever be translated."

Hannah giggled. "Oh my. Do you think young Alois will grow up to be bilingual?"

Claude's mouth drew tight. His eyes falling into a frown.

"Is he in bed already?" she followed up.

Claude's eyebrows sharply narrowed and furrowed.

"Who are you talking about Hannah?" he said darkly.

Hannah coiled up, before bursting into a giggle. "Oh stop being silly. I know you can understand English."

"Yes. I can," Claude said dangerously, "I understand perfectly. Who is Alois?"

"Our… son, Alois Faustus." Hannah linked her fingers together, genuine fear starting to crop up on her face.

"My sweet Hannah. I have no son."

Rather than persist with whatever game he was playing, Hannah arose to her feet and stormed up the stairs to find her son. Claude merely sat and waiting, a grim expression wrought into his stone face. Hannah would find no son, only an cold and empty bedroom.

A moment later, she reappeared in the doorway.

"Claude, this isn't funny. Where is he?"

"Hannah, I've already told you-"

She walked away again, this time down a different hallway. Again and again until she had walked them all twice. By then she had rivulets of silvery pearl tears decorating her handsome face. Claude could still not give her any answer.

"Claude why?! Why are you doing this?" she implored of him. "Is it my fault? Can you still not let it go?"

Claude stared right through her, as if she was just a piece of shattered glass meat.

"I don't know what you're talking about, dear."

She wailed before moving towards the window.

"Claude, I will throw myself out and I will not come back."

"You are a demon Hannah, do not say such ridiculous things."

She twitched, something dark and very evil stirring inside of her. She lifted her hand to her mouth, prying it open before Claude planted his lips on hers. She struggled and hissed.

"No, there will be none of that kind of passion tonight, Hannah."

Her eyes rolled back into nothingness and blackness.

"_La mia bella donna dolce._"_  
_

Miles down the road, the rubbish cart trundled noisily along. The creaking of the wheels eliminating any other sounds from within the vehicle.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hi readers! I notice this fic is getting less attention than my other one. I wonder if I'm doing anything wrong? Please review and let me know, good or bad, how you feel about the fanfiction.**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. William is a very contrary creature to write.**

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**Grell's POV**

Grell and William T Spears sat in the tiny conservatory in their homely Edinburgh house. Drinking tea, listening to the soothing sounds of the London Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra blasting Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. She knew it was at least 1875, but, well, that was why they called it classical music!

Besides, it was her and dear William's song. She had walked down the aisle to the thunderous cacophony of these sonorous sounds before collapsing into his marital arms. That was why she often called him her lovely cannon ball, a joke that had never stuck and never would.

"This tea is simply awful," William said with a sigh, slamming the teacup back on the saucer, spilling a drop on his immaculate suit. With an even heavier sigh, he produced a napkin and proceeded to wipe.

Grell seized up. Oh. Oh god no. "I'm so, so sorry, Willy." Grell declared, tears spilling out of her eyes. "Ohh, as Shakespeare once said: 'if music be the food of love, play on!' And if I can't even produce a good tea, well, what kind of love can I possibly have?."

"Well, can you make good music?" William drawled snidely, finally finishing off with one more furious wipe before disposing of the napkin in the local bin.

Grell giggled, "Oh Will…" she extended her arms, draping himself across his masculine, muscular form. "You know I'm not a _musician, _no, darling," she played her fingers over the buttons of his suit, thrusting her luscious hips forwards. "I'm an _instrument."  
_  
William had no reaction at all, staring like the stoic, silent buddhist he was. "You're an _opera singer. _I was merely trying to make you feel more positive."

"Oh, you mean cheer me up?" Grell asked, mystified by his vocabulary. "Oh Will! You are much too kind. This is why I want to bear your lovely, clever little children. Think what a father you'd be!" Grell writhed and wriggled a little bit against his still unstimulated groin-area.

But in that moment… something changed.

Grell widened her eyes, grinning, "And you know… now is the perfect time to go at it like the naughty little rabbits we are. It's your first day off in a month, isn't it?"

The aforementioned change suddenly erupted all over William's face. His eyes welled up with a cacophony of sparkling tears, but only one cascaded as the stoic man held back the endless flood.

Grell frowned. She reached a quivering hand out, pushing it against William's now wettened cheek. "Whatever is the matter, my bespectacled angel?"

"All my life, I've been waiting for the perfect woman, and to have the perfect children." He looked up at his wife's perfect face, eyes crestfallen.

"It hurts. That I can only have one of them."

Grell felt both overjoyed and clinically depressed. She knew his feelings all too well.

"Will…"

They were interrupted by the sound of the letterbox rattling, followed by the sound of post and packages hitting the floor. Then the sound of the letterbox closing. Grell gave Will a pointed, but unsure, look in the eye. Will covered her hand with his own.

"It's OK," he said, "Go."

She hurled her perfect, aerobatic and supple body from his lap and made her way to the polished oak front door. The damn thing was so old and impractical by now.

There were a few letters for Will. The bills of course, he was the _man_ of the house. Besides, Bill rhymed with Will. There was also a letter from his pen pal in India.

But the package, that was for Grell. She already knew what it was, but she didn't want to think about it until she was back at the table.

She returned to her seat and they both began to inspect the post. Will dissected his pen pal letter first. If Grell didn't know any better, she would suspect that he was having an affair. There was simply no way. Still, she couldn't help but be a little worried by the way his face seemed to cheer up. Too bad she didn't know any Hindi and possibly never would.

Anyway, it was time to face the music, and this time it wasn't classical. She turned the radio off and slammed the package on the table, on top of William's _letter_. He looked up - both startled, shocked and annoyed.

"You should not be working tonight," he said. "I specifically organized for this to be our one night of the month. What the demon is going on with the management department?"

William was correct. The package, the way it was bound with a large, pulsating symbol of death… well, it could only be a Soul Ledger. Collection duty. And, normally she didn't mind a bit of overtime, especially if it was fieldwork - but tonight was meant to be a romantic night, shared under the dusty moon in their squalid, cramped apartment.

"But… we really need the money," Grell thought out loud, tears ganging up in her eyes again.

William sighed.

"Yes, I suppose we do." Unwrapping the package, he ran his finger over the name on the cover. Damn this person, whoever he was, for choosing tonight to die. Then again, he supposed the shower was on the Fritz, and those things were neither cheap nor fun to live without.

Grell leaned forwards, grabbing her man and sucking his lips with her own. They stood there for a while, tongues rolling over one another's, each completely engrossed in the other, moaning and groaning and whimpering a little. Their love was truly a special kind. A deep kind. One that would last many a lifetime.

Or would it?

"Right, William. I love you to DEATH, but you're sitting on my death scythe. Get off it."

William looked completely aghast. Sitting up, he wiped his backside, glowering at the contraption.

"I told you not to keep that there."

Grell shrugged, "Oopsie" she said, before grabbing the scythe and taking off into that Good Night.

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Grell heaved her aching body down the street. Why did the damn English have to make streets so long? Anyway, she managed to get herself to the location of the soul. A pile of stinking rubbish dumped on the side of the road. Gross.

"Ugh, however did a mess like this happen?" Grell questioned the void. "And why did it have to happen to me?"

Grell began digging through the trash. She was going to dirty a nail. There was even someone _laughing _at her, saying in some garbled, ugly Scottish accent that she was an 'eggy bin raider.' She didn't see what eggs had to do with anything, and anyway, she was raiding it for a reason! Now, where was that disgusting soul?

She ripped open another time-wasting bag, finding nothing but trash. Ugh. Where was it? Another bag, another failure. She just wanted to be back home, with her lousy cup of tea and her lousy husband.

Grell reached into the bottom of the bag… wait. Pulling hard, Grell discovered… a baby?

Now it all fell into place. _That _was where all that crying was coming from. This little baby. With its adorable blue eyes and little chubby hands.

Then the dread came down on her, like the reaper she was. Surely not. Was this who she had to kill tonight? Of course it was. There was no one else around. Well, apart from that Scottish moron.

Cuddling the baby close, it began to scratch and suck against her waistcoat. Grell chuckled gently, caressing the little head. "You'll get no milk that way, little one."

Oh, but she did spot a small locket hanging around the child's neck. Snatching it away, she opened it. Alois… Yes, just like the ledger said. This was indeed the baby she had been sent to kill.

But there would be no killing tonight.

A reaper can, in rare circumstances, save a soul. This baby would surely change the world. Or, at least Grell's world. And Will's, too!

Grell was overcome with emotion. Tonight was truly the most glorious of all nights.

"Alois, you are, forevermore, a Spears."

Bundling the baby up into her arms, Grell made the long trudge back to their humble Edinburgh home.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hello and good evening dear readers! It's a lovely night for fanfiction reading, is it not? Well I certainly hope I continue that trend and enrich your night even further with yet another chapter to add to this work. While this chapter follows Sebastian and Madame Red, yet another family - I promise you that we will be returning to Claude, Hannah and young Alois very soon. Thank you for being patient.**

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**Madame Red's POV**

Vincent Phantomhive, the object of Angelina Dalles' eternal affections, had recently bewed her darling sister.

And this was the start of Angelina Dalles' descent down the glass neck of a bottle. A bottle of alcohol. Devil's brew.

Ironic, then, that she herself might meet that man on this very night.

The pub was crowded and noisy. She could not recall the name, nor did she probably ever know it. Nameless taverns in a nameless town with a nameless pubkeep. She howled listlessly at her own joke drawing drunken, lecherous looks from the louts drinking behind her. She had to fight the urge to break the bottle and cut them to ribbons.

She was swiftly distracted though.

"Terribly sorry, maiden," came a dark chocolate voice, promising to whisper many secrets. If only she would allow her ears to access them.

She lifted the bottle from the counter top, ready to attack, but as she turned around she was smitten.

Vincent Phantomhive. But no, it couldn't be, he was away on his glorious honeymoon, no doubt living it up and plunging himself inside of her sister. No, this man was like chocolate embodied, studded with angelic red orbs - his eyes - far different from Vincent's own black. Speaking of black, he was dressed in such a butler's uniform. He was gorgeous.

"Would you like a drink?" she laughed like an uncut diamond, showing many facets, both good and bad and waiting to be molded. Waving the bottle a little, the man nodded.

"Of course, my lady. That is the exact reason why I approached you. Not only because you seemed like a desperate woman in need of help, but I because I could not resist speaking to the woman whose hair was the very colour of the wine she was downing."

Angelina Dalles giggled into her glass. She was far too drunk and now she was weak and vulnerable to seduction. "You are a very charming man. And you look… so familiar."

"Perhaps you have been dreaming of me…" he whispered, taking the wine and pouring himself a seductive glass.

"Are you here for the wedding reception? You look just like the groom." She hiccupped like a frog in heat.

"Wedding? I had no idea. Perhaps I shall be the groom soon, if this night continues." The mystery man of many secrets smiled, taking a sip from his glass.

He was so charming, she could just dissect him. She did have her medical degree. Her cheeks blushed the same colour as her name. Oh… she hadn't introduced herself, yet. Her elocution would be awful with this damn drunken tongue, anyway - but onwards she pressed, bravely.

"My name is Angelina Dalles, by the way. But many people simply call me Madame Wine…" A noise like a swan erupted from her throat, and the man in black began to laugh alongside her.

"Are you really such an alcoholic? How very charming of you."

Blushing again, Angelina Dalles finally relinquished her old name and spoke the new, "Madame Red. That is what they call me."

"Ah, such a fitting name, but not so fitting as the last one." The man's eyes sparkled like the sea on fire. "My name is Sebastian. Sebastian Michaelis."

Sebastian… even his name reminded her of him.

He smiled.

"And I am a demon."

Madame Red laughed, but time would be the undoing of her. For Sebastian was never one to lie.

"Are you even a demon in bed?" Madame Red challenged, to which Sebastian nodded. Together, the two slipped out of the bar, wine bottle in hand, and found some sleazy hotel garden, fitting, as it was the garden to their newly blossoming love. Who knew that something quite so beautiful could arise from something so ugly and dark.

Many years turned as fortune's wheel did turn, and at first it was in her favor - together, they wed. Summer melted off her red, red gown - and they kissed in front a world charmed by their eternal love. Sebastian, Sebastian and Madame Red - two names blending together perfectly to make Madame Michaelis. She had been baptised anew. No more did she live in melancholy, and forevermore did she come to like the colour red, the colour of Sebastian's eyes.

She wondered if her child would have those eyes, too.

The wheel of fortune turned again in her favour, and she had found herself pregnant with a healthy baby of ambiguous gender. Even though she had been hit by a carriage and fallen infertile, because Sebastian was a demon, she could have one child - one and no more. She felt truly blessed.

These were the thoughts she had as she was deep in labour. Hearty moans passed through her throat as she gave one final push, giving the world her most precious gift.

Sebastian rubbed her hand, tears welling in his demonic eyes. This was the product of their love, their beautiful love. This was the project of their beautiful, bonded souls. This was… well, this would be Jim Michaelis. Their son.

After a few days in hospital, Madame Michaelis and Sebastian finally returned to their country home in Aberdeen, Scotland. Madame Michaelis hadn't had any impulses to stab or cut since giving birth to her most blessed miracle. Jim, oh Jim, James. What a son he would surely be. Sebastian seemed to be ever the proud father, smiling and flirting and laughing whenever he could.

Finally laying their child down in the cot for the first time in their home, Madame Michaelis turned to her wonderful husband. They were so happy that they nearly had another child, but that would have been impossible, of course. Holding hands, she said, "Do you think he'll be a demon?"

"I think it is far more likely he will be an alcoholic, with your genes, dear." Sebastian said, smirking. He had never lost his wry wit and she had never lost her penchant for fine wine.

"Oh, shut up, I'm serious. Don't make me cut you, Sebastian."

If anything, he seemed aroused by the thought, his eyes blazing in the darkness. "We cannot tell until the boy becomes thirteen years of age, because it is the unlucky age."

"I understand," she said, and then they both swanned off to bed.

The wheel of fortune that night, however, would grind to an unholy stop.

Lying in his cot, baby Jim, the source of all their happiness, rolled and tossed. He did not sense the spider creeping in the night, before it lunged and plunged its fangs deep into Jim's right eye, giving him the mark of the Spider.

His parents were woken by his shrill cries, and he was brought swiftly back to the hospital - but the Spider's mark would be with him for the rest of his life. But… would they?

**AN: Thank you for reading! I do hope that you enjoyed it. Any ideas as to what's going to happen next? I simply love reading your reviews and thoughts! Thank you.**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hello once again, readers! Now we can finally return to our original family. I hope you enjoy this chapter, as I've been excited to write this chapter for a while now. Now, the plot can truly begin. **

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**Hannah's POV**

Claude hadn't gone to work for seventeen days. Almost as many days as their son had been missing, give or take a year. He claimed it was because Hannah had bullied him too much over their 'non-existent' child, and that he felt clinically depressed. So, now he was sprawled out like the useless slug he was over the armchair by the pool. There were ducklings in the pool, and even though Claude normally loved those miraculous ducklings, today he showed not even a wink of interest in them.

Hannah found him to be disgusting, annoying and utterly bizarre. She had no room left in her to feel sorry for him as she was too busy feeling sorry for herself. But, he was still the attractive Italian foreigner she had been seduced by that faithful night.

"Claude, would you like anything to drink?"

"Just _l'acqua_ my dear," he said.

Hannah felt tears singe her eyes. Perhaps he should drink them. But.. he never used to only drink water. Where was the brave man who sipped on romantic wines every night? Would they ever again see those days where they would take their wind drenched minds to beautiful lands together? As funny as it sounded, she missed passing out under the moon with him together.

Waltzing off to the kitchen, she stuck the glass under the tap. She paused. Picking up a bottle of Vodka, she stared at it for an entire minute. Smiling sadly, in the past he would have adored this Italian drink… well, maybe he could again. Pouring it into the glass, she quickly topped it up with another dose of water - and made her way back to the pool.

A scream erupted from her throat and at the same time the alcoholic drink of deceit shattered on the ground.

Claude was lying, face down, in the pool. Ducklings sitting on his back like imaginations of vultures. Like Tityos, he breathed in the water. Why had he done this? Was he bipolar as well as depressed? It seemed he truly had wanted l'acqua. But not like this, not in a glass. He wanted the taste of sleep, the eternal sleep, with the fishes.

And yet, Hannah had felt this impulse once or twice too often - and thought to herself to drown the handsome evil beautiful bastard that Claude was in this very pool… but to see his black tailcoat pooling out atop the water like a great black kraken, his face unmoving and unseeable, bubbles inflating all around - it was a ghastly, horrifying sight.

Wasting no time, Hannah leapt her curvaceous body into the pool. Her maid's dress absorbing most of the impact, she struggled forwards, gasping as she grabbed onto Claude after she cleared away the ducklings. Honking in disgruntlement, she hauled Claude's almost-corpse up onto the poolside, draping him on the edge like Titanic. But she would not drown like Leonardo DiCaprio… she managed to pull herself out of the cold, watery depths and collapsed atop Claude.

If she was honest, this reminded her of the first night they lay together. It had been summer and they had dined on the many juices of Dionysos: wine. Finding themselves down on the beach, they had made love between the seaweed and under a moonlit sea. And now, here they were again, desperate and gasping for breath.

"Claude, I could have lost you," Hannah wept. Why was he always trying to take her family away?

"Don't be silly, Hannah dearest, demons are impervious to drowning." Claude chuckled, water spewing out his mouth.

She screwed her eyes tight, trying to stop the tears. They were both soaked enough. So was their marriage. It was a burden almost too great to bear.

"Don't scare me like that again, Claude. Not again."

His eyes opened a crack, golden light spilling onto, but also out of, his eyes.

"Hannah, mia cara. Let me scare you just one more time," he whispered throatily.

The fear rose up in her, true to his word, as he spoke.

"Claude, only once more. You get one more and then I can't take it once more."

"Don't worry, I only need one more. When I was in the water, a plan came to me," he grinned broadly, "a family plan."

She didn't know what to say. The ducklings were often inspiration for his plans, but he never told her what they were.

"I'll be gone for tonight. I will return though, and I will bring back a ragazzo nuovo."

What did he mean? She could do no more than watch as he strode confidently away from the manor, still drenched with pool water. As he walked though, she saw his image blur and he began to become dry. He was evaporating the water. Her cheeks flushed; the mysterious art of demons.

Her heart was tight with worry. This was Claude's last chance. Their last chance. She could only pray that he would return and make everything alright again.

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**Claude's POV**

Eight legs were faster than one, and so Claude had transformed into a spider. Scuttling down the British isles, he made his way towards his prey - his target. He knew not his destination, but he could sense it. Could sense that mark.

Hannah had been, now she was gone. Left behind in the home. She belonged there, anyway, because she would just destroy this mission of incredible importance by complaining about that Alois again. He didn't know why she was so obsessed with the boy, but soon she would have a new obsession. An obsession they could share.

Approaching a grand Aberdeen home, Claude shifted back into a human form. His own human form. It was striking just how strange it was to walk on two feet instead of eight. Quickly adjusting, he snuck in through the window. Running through the estate, he sniffed out what he could of his old rival's home.

Yes, Sebastian Michaelis, newly wed. Newly childed. Well, a year ago. A year and seventeen days ago. The day Hannah changed.

Sebastian seemed to be doing quite well for himself. Large, homely gardens. A well stocked fridge. He wondered how much money a butler like him could rake in… or if it was something to do with his doctor wife. Regardless, he reminisced about the old school days with Sebastian. The fights. The thrills. The sex.

But those days were long gone. All the same, as Claude stood outside of Sebastian's room, breathing in his faint scent - he couldn't help but feel the impulse to rush in there and start a fight before allowing it to descend into a passionate session of love. But, they were both married now.

Never mind, for Claude could still have one piece of Sebastian to carry with him forever. His son.

Following the pulse of the mark, he found himself in little Sebastian Jr's bedroom. Claude did not care or know the child's name. Picking up the writhing baby, he whispered gently to it, humming a tune. Reaching a hand forwards, he unlatched the child's eyepatch, examining the Spider's Mark that glew brilliantly on his purple iris.

Looking up towards the starry night sky, Claude thought _cielo stellato._

"Ciel," Claude whispered. Looking around the bedroom, he notice a poster of Vincent Phantomhive. Ha. So Sebastian still worshipped that old goat. Claude remembered one instance of passionate lovemaking when Sebastian had called him 'Vincent' and they had not spoken again for six weeks, nor the rest of the session, so embarrassing. Now, however, it was just humourous.

"Ciel Phantomhive," Claude whispered. "That is what we will call you. In honor of your true father."

Leaping out the boy's bedroom, Claude made the long trek back to Mellerstain house, whispering and cooing to his new found baby the entire way. 

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**AN: As always, please review. Your commentary is precious and priceless.**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Happy Easter, dear readers! I hope you're enjoying your day and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you kindly to those who have already reviewed. They mean a lot to me, and they are good encouragement for writing more. So please, if you like this chapter, please review.**

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**Madame Red's POV**

Madame Michaelis sat with her head down, eyes drenched in tears. They were red… and puffy. Ha… ironic, almost. How often her eyes were framed in this colour. This dreary, blasted colour. She had come to so love the colour blue - but now she feared, just as the blue skies had been painted grey all today, that she would never see the colour blue again.

Jim, her only son… her only potential son, was gone. Like seeds in the wind. No, like seeds in a hurricane - because he had been so violently ripped from her life. They had searched for him, searched in bins, in local bushes, in parks - anywhere where he could have crawled off to. But he was in none of these places. He was nowhere.

Having just returned from the police station, both of them felt drained and talked out. But talk, they did.

"Do you think he could be at the university? He was always so thirsty for an education…" Sebastain remarked, and Madame Michaelis shook her head.

"No, he was only a baby, after all." Though Aberdeen University was the third oldest university in Scotland and the fifth in the English speaking world - even that would not allure a young child. Sebastian, being a demon, had yet to learn such simple things about human nature.

"If only…" she tilted her head upwards, tears typhooning in her eyes. "If only we'd taught him how to defend himself."

"Or to ask for help," replied Sebastian, ever the pacifist. "Yet, my dear Madame Michaelis we cannot blame ourselves." Yet he was obviously doing this anyway, the way he cried bitterly into the night wind, screaming out for his dear Jim.

"No. Don't call me that." She looked out of the window, seeing the sun set and cast the clouds and eerie blood pink. "Call me… Madame Red. What I always should have been."

"That, or Madame Wine…" she chuckled miserably, downing the fourth glass she held in her pearly white hands.

She knew that Sebastian was disturbed by her behaviour. But she had not a single piece of caring left in her aching, hollow body. It was time for him to leave.

As if sensing this, Sebastian rose to his feet.

"There's something I think I should do… Madame Red," he whispered, not meeting her eyes. She nodded, thankful for the reprieve from their shared nightmare. Sebastian stepped out of the room. When he was far enough away, she allowed her sobs to flow freely.

Trouble is, a demon is never far enough away.

* * *

**Sebastian's POV**

Black feet stepped onto white stone floors. Floors overcast with colourful dreams - sun streaking through the vast images, emblazoned against the windows with stained glass. Greens, blues and … reds.

It had been years, decades even since he had stepped foot in a church. Not since his relationship with the priest. But now he was desperate. And throughout the ages, men have always turned to church once they had run out of options.

The pews were empty, but the stoup was full to the brim. Sebastian knew he shouldn't, but he helped himself to a long, deep draught. It burned his throat, but it felt good. His eyes swimming, he made his way stumbling to the altar beneath the pictures of God.

He allowed himself to drop to one drunken knee and clasped his hands together.

"Dear God," he spoke, regret lacing his typically sultry vocal cords. "I know that you less than love my kind."

"But I do not know where else to turn."

He paused, a little choked up. Needless to say, there was no response.

"You see, my son… I don't know what happened to him," the left side of Sebastians face was streaked with tears. Not that he noticed, the holy water was hitting him hard. Holy water to a demon was like vodka to a human.

"He… he's been missing for days. He couldn't have escaped on his own." His fists clenched tightly. "For all I know he's been kidnapped."

"For all I know he's been devoured by a demon."

The stained glass windows shattered around him, showering him with broken glass which quickly dissolved into light. When he looked up, there wasn't a crack on them. But the light remained.

"_Wouldn't that be ironic, now."_

Sebastian's mouth, previously slack jawed, was now agape with shock. Feathers… no, wings. A woman, white hair, white skin, white cloak. An angel.

"_I don't suppose you've been snacking in your sleep, Sebastian Michaelis?"_

Tears welled in his eyes again, but he fought them back.

"How do you know who I am?" he asked.

"_I have met your kind before," _she replied. _"My name is Angela."_

_I'm going to die_, Sebastian thought to himself. Surprised at how little it worried him.

"Well, I suppose I made a mistake coming here," he said, sadly. "I don't suppose you're going to let me go."

"_Of course I won't let you go…" _she said. He winced. _"Not without your son."_

Sebastian blinked in confusion and intoxication. Her eyes, burning into him, so beautiful.

"You're going to help me?"

"_If I couldn't do at least that much, then what kind of angel would I be?"_

She descended to the ground to meet him. He pulled himself to his feet, tripping over his shoes, but she caught his arm, levitating him to a standing position.

"Tell me then, Angela, what should I do?"

"_There's little you can do in this state,"_ she said, leaning towards him.

His eyes widened in shock as their lips met, and he felt a rush as his vision drifted back into focus. When they broke apart, she was holding a small bottle. The holy water that he had been drunk on until just that moment.

"_I will do what I can to help you,"_ she continued, _"but you have other friends, do you not? Go to them."_

Other friends? He had a few, but who was she talking about. He looked around at the church and it all became clear.

"Alright," he whispered. Standing up straight, he bowed gracefully. "Thank you Angela, I will go to meet with the man of my own kind."

She began drifting back up through the ceiling of the church as he strode back outside.

Angela…

Why was she helping him? His face flushed a little. Why had she kissed him? Of course, the holy water. He shook himself.

He had other things to think about just now.

It was time to go and meet with Claude Faustus.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thank you to those who followed and reviewed. Your compliments are great encouragement for writing. I hope you continue to enjoy this tale.**

**Fair warning, this chapter is rated M for scenes of a sexual nature.**

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**Claude's POV**

It had been a boring, uneventful day. Enriched only by the cooing of their precious Ciel. He had already begun to talk. It felt like only yesterday that he had been crawling around uselessly. Yet here he was, babbling, constantly saying "pappa" and "mamma."

Good. He had accepted them. And he and Hannah were delighted, though she rarely left her room. It seemed she had suddenly gained postnatal depression. But, Claude would be there for her and Ciel. He had been a single parent before, after all.

Yet an event was about to jump out of the woodwork.

"Ciel…" Claude whispered, pointing to a blackboard and watching his son's eyes follow. "This is _Italiano, _your father's native tongue, the language of love. And I do love you, my son."

Ciel clapped his hands together and said something that sounded like _molto bene._ Claude had never felt so proud, and so he ruffled his son's thin, blue hair. _Just like his mother's_, he thought, rubbing it a little longer than he perhaps should.

"Now, Ciel, let us start you on the Italian alphabet-" he began, about to burst into song - when he suddenly heard the door-bell ring.

Who could want to interrupt his son's Italian _lezione_? He put his glasses on and lifted up Ciel.

He made his way to the front door, Ciel in arms, and looked through the peep-hole.

His _cuore_ stopped.

On the other side of the door… Sebastian Michaelis. He didn't look angry - perhaps it was just coincidence?

Without thinking, he placed a finger over his lips, begging Ciel to be quiet. He then produced a dummy **(AN: pacifier)** popping it into his son's little mouth. Hopefully that would keep him quiet. He then wrapped a blanket around the boy and hid him in the nearest place he could. An empty bin by the door.

As the front door swung open, Claude feigned surprise.

"Sebastian!?" he said, deadpan. "Whatever do you want with me and my humble manor?"

"Would you believe me if I said the angels sent me here?" Sebastian replied with a wry smile.

Claude frowned. He hadn't had to think about angels since he had been a priest all that time ago.

"I might believe that," he shrugged, "if I was talking to a pile of ash." Claude had never been one for politeness. Except to _le donne_.

"You make a fair point," Sebastian chuckled. "Regardless, may I come in?"

Claude looked down at Ciel in panic, then back to Sebastian.

"Of course," he said.

As Sebastian walked through the hallway and into the sitting room, Claude stood in front of Ciel, blocking the view. He also had to cough a few times to cover up the sounds of baby gurgling.

Once they were both in the sitting room, Claude got down to business.

"Now really, why are you here?" he asked. "It's been a number of years, Sebastian."

"It has indeed," Sebastian replied. "And I have not come to rekindle those years, sadly." He looked down, emotion overcoming him. Every time he thought about it, his left eye filled with tears. "It's… my son. You heard about my son, didn't you? Even if you didn't come to the wedding?"

Claude hadn't remembered a wedding invitation… regardless, he agreed. "Yes, I do remember. Jim was it?"

"That was my son's name, yes." Sebastian nodded. Claude internally shook his head, that name held no meaning now. "Well, he's got himself in a spot of trouble. He's missing, actually. Kidnapped."

Claude's eyes widened. A mix of feelings rushing through his veins like those new trains that have now been invented.

"Kidnapped…" he muttered. "Lost. Like my own son."

Sebastian felt a flash of annoyance that Claude was making this about himself. But he was used to it by now.

"Yes. So you know how I feel."

Claude nodded.

"But I don't know where your son is, Sebastian," he drawled.

"I know Claude. I just… remember before we had these heartbreaks? Remember before we had children?"

Claude sighed and relaxed his shoulders. He did remember. He remembered well.

"Do you remember our walks, after church?" Sebastian asked.

Claude smirked. "Do you remember when we made love in the confession booth?"

Sebastian shook his head, laughing. "Oh Christ…" he muttered.

"I thought we promised to leave him out of it," Claude laughed.

There was a slow silence and the two of them found their eyes fixed upon each other. Lips drifting ever closer. Close enough to touch…

_Hannah…_

_Madame…_

_Her…_

"Sebastian, no," Claude said firmly.

Sebastian chuckled. Trying to hide his embarrassment.

"You're right, Claude, I know," his face fell, miserable. "I don't know what to do, Claude."

"Nor do I," he replied.

Another awkward silence descended upon the pair. The only sound that could be heard was the shuffling upstairs. Perhaps Hannah was waking up?

"Maybe you should go," Claude sighed, removing his glasses. "Back to your wife. She needs you."

Sebastian simply nodded. Very glum.

They said their goodbyes at the door, lingering for longer than they each perhaps meant to. But eventually, Sebastian set on his way, down the garden path, and Claude retreated inside.

He made his way upstairs, thinking of the kiss that almost was, but never was. His face felt hot as he knocked on his own bedroom door - a stranger.

"Hannah…" he said tentatively.

There was a sound of shuffling and a pause before Hannah's voice made it's way to the door, sounding startled. He must have woken her.

"Come in," she said.

He opened the door and saw her lying in bed, the curtains drawn. Perhaps the worst bed-hair he had ever seen. Perhaps the most gorgeous.

Not only that, but she was clad in the most seductive clothing he had witnessed her in since that night in June - their honeymoon. Thoughts of Sebastian blended into thoughts of her back, her body, her beginning that had no end. His love for her blossomed in a single instant, and he sighed.

"Why are you dressed like this, Hannah?" He smirked, "I have not forgotten my birthday again, have I?"

"No," she whispered softly, forging a smile. "No, my darling. I simply have been feeling… well, excited, today."

"You mean,_ eccitato_?" Claude felt his heart flutter and pound and explode in his chest. "Luckily, I have felt the same today. Perhaps there is something in the air."

Perhaps it was Sebastian's very presence… perhaps.

Regardless, Claude and Hannah fell back down into the bed, wet and hot kisses passed between them. Becoming greedy, his fingers slipped underneath her underwear, and he gasped. "You are very… very _eccitato _today, aren't you my dear?"

She glanced away, in he direction of the floor by the bed, before looking back to him and kissing him lightly. "How could I not be with my darling husband?" She purred much like a cat, something Sebastian would have found appealing… "I love you very much, _daddy_."

Claude growled with sudden arousal. She knew how to turn him on with just one word. It was a thing only Hannah had ever done, and he rather liked it. Tearing away at the silk that covered her breast, he began to suck on her hard nipple.

"Does daddy want milk?" Hannah asked, running her fingers through his hair.

"No." Claude responded, "I just want to please my _bella donna_." He drew his tongue in a circle over her nipple, which he knew she liked, as she arched her back and moaned into the air. There was a creak as the bed shook with her arousal, and Claude was sure for a second he heard muttered cursing - very unusual for Hannah, but it pleased him all the same.

"_Mia cara, mia donna dolce, mio romanzo del cuore." _

"Shh shh, you know I don't speak any of that silly language," Hannah gasped, twisted her neck back as Claude began to kiss her stomach. Parting her legs, he made sweet, warm caresses with the edges of his lips over her thighs.

"Then let me teach you…" he said. Fingering through her panties again, he drew them down and over her legs, tossing them away. She lay open to him, a flower lying on its side, dripping with sweet nectar. Bringing his face closer to the flower, he acted like a butterfly, and began to drink.

"Ah.. A… Mamma… Mia!" Hannah cried, knitting her fingers through his hair. Claude hummed a chuckle against her sweet bud.

"That's it… you're getting it now."

Making circles, the symbol for eternity, with his tongue over her vagina, she arched her back and cooed his name repeatedly - feeling herself growing ever wider and ever hotter.

"Now, how do we say… ready?"

"I … I don't know, daddy," she said, driving her nails deep into his skull. "Teach me!"

"Ah, well… it's _pronto." _

"Well, get to it, pronto!" she said, spreading her legs wide open. Claude began to mount his prize, his dear wife, his equal. There was an odd scrabbling noise, and he wondered if the cat had got in. But at this point he no longer cared.

"Are you sure?" He asked as he always asked a woman.

Hannah paused, and finally said with a cheeky smile, _"Oui." _

Claude was immediately turned on in memory of Sebastian, his sweet floral french words slipping into his ear. But, no. He needed to concentrate on pleasuring his wife, a far different and more difficult task than pleasuring Sebastian.

Lowering himself, he placed his penis at her entrance. She shivered in excitement and anticipation. And then finally, like a train entering a dark and wet tunnel, he slipped into her. Her body filled up with pleasure and her breasts swelled up into his hands. She gasped one loud "daddy" and lay there as Claude began making thrusts.

One… two… three… she counted them like daisy chains - kissing and breathing on her husband, whispering sweet nothings in his ear as he spoke mixed up foreign languages. But suddenly, Claude slowed to a halt, and a "_cazzo!_" was dropped into her ear. She didn't know what it meant… but she could tell it was a swear word.

He pulled out of her, something he had never done unsatisfied - and she stared at his aching cock.

"Is something wrong?" She asked, eyes wide.

He said nothing, and ran out the room.

"... You can come out now," Hannah whispered.

Claude stumbled down the stairs while zipping up his trousers, cursing his erection for refusing to calm down. Finally managing to stuff it inside, he rushed over towards the front door. Leaning down, he threw the bin lid off, and lifted a bundle of blankets out.

Golden eyes widening, he caressed the small baby's face.

"Hannah…" He called, "HANNAH!"

As he heard her on the stairs, she stopped, looking at him like a deer in the headlights of a car.

"Look, look Hannah. It's our son."

She shook her head, "I kn…"

"Our son Alois!"

Her face twisted up, looking angrily towards Claude. "What are you talking about?"

Something inside of Claude twisted up and died. Something was wrong…

"Why aren't you happy? I remembered… He was inside the bin."

Hannah arched her brows, before rage overtook her.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" She shook her head. "This is the first time we've had sex in months, and you stop it for this… cruel joke?"

Claude frowned… before reaching for his glasses as if to see the baby better.

"Well… I better resume my Italian lessons with Ciel," he said as if nothing had happened.

Hannah glowered, "You were teaching me Italian…"

"I think my own flesh and blood learning the language of his fatherland is more important," he said, shrugging. "You only want to know it so you can try and seduce me, and believe me Hannah, I am already thoroughly seduced."

Bouncing Ciel on his hip, Hannah frowned and shook her head.

That baby had ruined their marriage, and only she seemed to notice.


End file.
